Saturday, 11 March 2017

Master's Proposal for My Give a Little Page

Below is my master's proposal submitted on the 10th of February. The proposal itself was approved on the 27th of February, however, my scholarship applications were declined on the 9th of March due to the competitiveness of the limited number of scholarships. If this project interests you, then, could I ask for your support. Firstly, through prayer that God's will would be done; whether that means I obtain the funds or not. Secondly, through offering a financial contribution on my Give A Little Page (). Thirdly, through promoting my Give A Little page on social media or through emailing relevant and/or potential contacts. (Please note that this proposal is my own intellectual property, so do not reproduce the content below without contacting me for my permission.)

Proposal for Masters Research in Christian Thought and History

My research will bring the work of William T. Cavanaugh on Eucharistic theology, nonviolence, and radical democratic theory into dialogue with Judith Butler’s work on performativity, radical democratic politics, and her ethics on precarity.

The church has been integral to Cavanaugh’s political theology since his first monograph – “Torture and the Eucharist” (1998). The book gave him public acclaim as he identified how torture and the Eucharist were the corresponding liturgies of two competing political bodies: the state of Chile under Pinochet and the Roman Catholic Church. One of Cavanaugh’s central influences is the late Catholic theologian, Henri de Lubac. de Lubac’s discovery and dictum in Corpus Mysticum (1944) is that “the Eucharist makes the church,” a revelation that is essential to Cavanaugh’s thought. In de Lubac’s work, he elaborates how the Eucharist and the church as a dyad were referred to as a “communio,” which paired together forming the contemporary performance of Christ’s history body. Consequently, Christians were Jesus’ real body while the Eucharist was where the Body of Christ mysteriously came to exist. Cavanaugh explains that “[t]he church and the Eucharist form the liturgical pair of visible community (corpus verum) and the invisible action or mystery (corpus mysticum) which together re-present and re-remember Christ’s historical body.” Cavanaugh poetically summarises this reality, noting that “the church does not simply perform the Eucharist; the Eucharist performs the church.” The Eucharist makes the Body of Christ, the true, “sui generis” social body.”
Cavanaugh asserts that the practice of Eucharist is what makes the church a political body and is not to be merely tacked onto politics and political issues. For the practices of Eucharist and torture alike use “bodies to mediate a particular political performance, an “act of symbolization” that [effects] a “relation of places” among subjects.” These symbolic acts, Cavanaugh claims, reorganise public space through ritual practices scripting bodies into a performance. For political power is realised when individual bodies work together in concert to tell a narrative that configures them in space and time as a political body. “These narratives are told through ritual action; the ordering of the body politic is largely realized through public ritual actions through which the roles and boundaries and goals and allegiances of the body are enacted and reinforced.” The public performance of the Eucharist, then, is political, such that Cavanaugh calls it “an authoritative touchstone for configuring bodies in space and time.” Thus, when the church puts bodies on the street in public protest it claims the right to configure space and time in a way that challenges rather than reinforces the nation-states performance and associated narratival rituals.

                Judith Butler arguably came to public acclaim and notoriety through her work on gender performativity which was brought to the fore in her book, Gender Trouble (1990). In her preface to the 1999 edition of the text, she notes the difficulty of giving a precise definition of performativity. Firstly, because of how others have used the term over time. Secondly, because her understanding of the term has had to have been clarified and revised predominantly due to others critical feedback as well as through her own social and political engagements. Butler explains that, firstly,

the performativity of gender revolves around this metalepsis, the way in which the anticipation of a gendered essence produces that which it posits as outside itself. Secondly, performativity is not a singular act, but a repetition and a ritual, which achieves its effects through its naturalization in the context of a body, understood in part, as a culturally sustained temporal duration.
While gender has been central to Butler’s theorising of performativity, her later works, such as Excitable Speech: A Politics of the Performative (1997) and Notes Toward a Performative Theory of Assembly (2015), have expanded the scope of performativity beyond gender. Essential to both of these is how a speech act can involve both “linguistic performativity” and “bodily performativity.” For Butler, these forms intersect and consequently are not wholly distinct, nor identical. In Excitable Speech, Butler explored how a speech act can simultaneously be “performed” and “linguistic” because “speech itself is a bodily act with specific linguistic consequences. Thus speech belongs exclusively to neither corporeal presentation nor to language, and its status as word and deed is necessarily ambiguous.”
The evolution of Butler’s thought has led to her rejecting liberal individualisms understanding of performativity favouring instead a relational ontology that acknowledges the “relation between us.” She instead appeals to how our performative existence as social beings offers opportunities for coordinated action in concert where the “condition and aim is the reconstitution of plural forms of agency and social practices of resistances.” She notes that “[t]he specific thesis of [Notes Toward a Performative Theory of Assembly] is that acting in concert can be an embodied form of calling into question the inchoate and powerful dimensions of reigning notions of the political.” There are then strong similarities between Butler and Cavanaugh. Firstly, through Cavanaugh perceiving that public demonstrations “claim the right to be here” and Butler’s similar assertion that such demonstrations exercise a “plural and performative right to appear, one that asserts and instates the body in the midst of the political field”. Secondly, through Cavanaugh’s understanding of the potential of a body politic to engage together in the rituals of a different story in a performance that reconfigures space and time. Butler, in comparison, emphatically points out that in public protest the exercising of “assembly and speech reconfigure the materiality of public space and produce, or reproduce, the public character of the material environment” through either contestation or conformity. The reconfiguring or the creation of space and location through action in concert is tied to her relational ontology of there being a relation between us. For in political protest, the plural and performative action is more than an aggregation of solitary individuals. In contrast, this “happens only “between” bodies, in a space that constitutes the gap between my own body and another’s...Indeed, the action emerges from the “between,” a spatial figure for a relation that both and differentiates.” Cavanaugh’s understanding of the performance of the Eucharist making the church has similar resonances to how Butler conceptualises bodies in concert creating a new social body.

Butler and Cavanaugh’s pursuit of political social bodies other than the state leads to them both finding fault with nationalism. For Cavanaugh “nationalism demands simple space that only the state sovereign can provide.” Simple space describes the direct relationship between sovereign and individuals that has arisen with the ascendancy of the nation-state at the expense of the complex space of overlapping loyalties and authorities in medieval society.” Thus, he can claim that “[t]he main conflict of modern politics is not state versus individual, but state versus intermediate social group.” The Cavanaugh calls for the complexifying of political space through the adoption of an imagination that refuses the relegation of social bodies to the role of mediating between the two poles of state and individual. There is, then, an important task of creating the more complex political space of radical democracy through “[creating] forms of local and translocal community that disperse and resist the powers invested in the state and corporation.” Butler’s similar vision problematises nationalism for how it selectively produces and sustains a particular understanding of the subject. Nationalism’s conception of the subject delimits political dependency and obligations to the nation-state in contrast to her calls for the recognition of our radical interdependence on one other and the translation of this principle into a pursuit of global cohabitation.

Essential to Butler’s relational ethic is our shared corporeal vulnerability – “precariousness” – which demonstrates a “social ontology” instead of a liberal individualistic ontology. Our social ontology demands conditions that sustain social life; conditions that testify to and rely on interdependency. Understanding our fundamental interconnectedness can be aided through the concepts of “precarity” and “precariousness.” Precarity

designates that politically induced condition in which certain populations suffer from failing social and economic networks of support more than others, and become differentially exposed to injury, violence, and death…precarity is thus the differential distribution of precariousness.”

For Butler ethics and politics intersect on this point as

each of us is constituted politically in part by virtue of the social vulnerability of our bodies – as a site of desire and physical vulnerability, as a site of a publicity at once assertive and exposed. Loss and vulnerability seem to follow from our being socially constituted bodies, attached to others, at risk of violence by virtue of that exposure.

Life is inevitably and necessarily lived in “unwilled proximity and interdependency” a phrase that she uses repeatedly to demonstrate how we are bound to each other. Thus, the ““I” is invariably implicated in the “we.””

                Cavanaugh acknowledges a similar social bond, observing that the horror of torture is intensified through the awareness that the violent act “is being done to me by another human being. It is a perversion and destruction of the very idea of human relationship.” Cavanaugh rejects any possibility of the church using violence since ecclesial history testifies to the fact that the church cannot exercise violence rightly. Cavanaugh here has appropriated Dorothy Day’s position on nonviolence. He argues that the boundaries of the visible church today are not the same as the eschatological body of Christ. This means that Day can posit that all human beings are potential members of the Body of Christ and thus we cannot inflict violence on another without risking hurting one of our own members. This principle of the mystical body of Christ acknowledges the communicability of pain as well as of guilt. Day’s premise is that not only pain is shared amongst the Body of Christ but also that guilt is shared in the body through violent acts committed and from corresponding sins of omission for failing to prevent or protest against violence. Cavanaugh, consequently, claims that “[t]he eucharist produces a radical identification of three terms: Christ, those who suffer, and me (cf. Matt. 25:31-46).” Thus, just as Butler’s social ontology of shared vulnerability starts collapsing distinctions between “self” and “other” so does the reality of the mystical body of Christ.

For Butler, our shared precarious existence can unite us despite our differences through all living creatures being implicated by vulnerability. For Butler acknowledging how all of life experiences precariousness, while acknowledging that precarity differentially allocates precariousness, offers a potential “basis for claiming the equal value of lives.” The social ontology that recognises our equal need for conditions suitable for our survival requires an ethic of social responsibility for sustaining, safeguarding, and advancing more egalitarian conditions. Consequently, rethinking our bodily ontology enables us to rethink politics through the formation of coalitions based on the promotion of conditions that address precarity instead of on identity politics. Such precarity-based-alliances can appeal to the “right to life” or in the case of the stateless who are fully politically disenfranchised, “the right to have rights.” Butler envisions these coalitions should operate despite “ongoing antagonisms” among groups and participants. These differences are invaluable to her because she perceives these “persistent and animating differences as the sign and substance of radical democratic politics.” This would outwork her claim that “[e]quality is a condition and character of political action itself at the same time that it is its goal.” Thus, the pursuit of conditions suitable for a shared but vulnerable life should be found in a political body outside of the simple space of state and individual. Given that in Torture and the Eucharist Cavanaugh devotes his final chapter – “Performing the Body of Christ” – to elaborating three examples to develop a “Eucharistic imagination of resistance to state discipline,” I think there is potential for Butler’s understanding of performative and plural political action on the basis of precarity to inform his “Eucharistic counter-politics.”
                Therefore, this preliminary sketch of the work of Butler and Cavanaugh shows potential for refining political theological thought on nonviolence, radical democracy, and the performative nature of political bodies’ practices, especially the church and nation-state. I think that an engagement between these two scholars on practices of resistance to state violence is relevant to today’s world. A world where identity politics has been appropriated by white groups, like the alt-right in America. A world where autarkic and isolationist tendencies are growing in popularity at the expense of globalisation, as seen with Brexit in the United Kingdom and the election of Donald Trump in America. A world where fear is threatening diplomacy and humanitarian aid, as seen by the controversial responses to the worst refugee crisis since World War II. A world where ending war and terrorism is still about killing all the right people. In this current political climate, pioneering interdisciplinary work that brings together surprising and seemingly incompatible interlocutors is part of the pursuit of radical democracy.

Chapter Break Down and Titles:

1.       Butler’s Solution to Precariousness, Precarity, and Dispossession: Radical Democratic Alliances
2.       Cavanaugh’s Politics: The Radical Democracy of the Eucharist
3.       Butler’s Conception of Religion
4.       Religion in Cavanaugh’s Writings: Constructivist, Functionalist, or Substantivist?
5.       The Shift of the Performative in Butler’s Works
6.       The Nature of the Eucharist: Performative, Performance or Both?


Monday, 11 July 2016

A Church on the Streets

Protesting. You could say that that this is what I do every day on social media. Although, most would identify this as a passive form of activism – slacktivism – I raise that to make the point that this is fairly innocuous. I have actually attended two protests in person. Both were protesting against the TPPA. You could say that I am a newbie at this form of public resistance. I decided to attend these more forms of activism to put my body in line with my head and my heart. It was initially intimidating considering participating in a protest. But, one of the biggest reasons for getting involved was my faith. For some partaking in a protest would be the antithesis of being faithful. However, for me, it was a way of actively showing solidarity with those who would be most adversely impacted by the TPPA. I thought this was in a similar vein to the Biblical prophetic tradition and in Jesus’ radical hospitality to the stranger who he himself identified with (Matthew 25).

Studying sociology at Auckland was where I encountered the false dichotomy of private and public. Though, attending Carey Baptist College had begun this process. During this period I encountered Shane Claiborne, Tony Campolo, Jim Wallis, and others who opened up my eyes to the existence of the previously invisible – the Christian left. Sociology, however, raised the stakes and rattled the bars. I realised that all of life is political because all of life is social (involves others) and all of life is implicated by those in/with power. A byproduct of this was that I had all the more reason to be dead set against neoliberal capitalism (that still has not changed) and was inspired by more egalitarian economic initiatives. These thoughts developed and once I began studying at both Carey and Auckland these thoughts began to cohere. Although, arguably the kingdom for me resembled more the “skinny-jeans gospel” that Scot McKnight challenges in “Kingdom Conspiracy.” I was torn between a socialist Christian vision and a liberal political vision. My Facebook feed offered an amalgamated presentation of these contradictory elements.

Last year I began to see the value in a theology of citizenship. I was particularly toying with the possibilities of a theory of dual citizenship (somewhat similar I now realise to Martin Luther’s two kingdoms doctrine). Dual citizenship, I thought, offered conceptual promise as a way to maintain absolute loyalty to Jesus Christ as the Lord (Tom Wright had inscribed this point deep within me) while still affirming the public role and responsibility of Christians. Examining and exegeting key texts (Ephesians 2:19 and Philippians 3:20) for my People of God paper, confirmed my hunch; there was room for a political church. During this period, I found again the existence of something I was fairly unfamiliar with, a love for the church. The church went from being a hindrance to the kingdom to being the citizens of God’s inaugurated (here-but-not-yet) kingdom. A passion that was inflamed by the books of Scot McKnight. However, McKnight’s outright dismissal of different forms of Constantinianism and the priority of the church as the new society and polis of God deflated my hopes for dual citizenship.

A new thought began to materialise. I was still passionate about citizenship and I was beginning to wonder whether a theology of citizenship could complement and offer a new direction for public theology. However, having to read much of the published works of the public theologian, William Storrar, had made me question a public theology (like his) that gave undue faith to the political processes of liberal democracy. Admittedly, I saw myself at a dead-end or more truly a loose end. This year I returned to William Cavanaugh’s work on the body of Christ as an alternative body politic to the state. Cavanaugh’s works have been my bread and butter for much of this year. Over time, I began to doubt the thinking of the nation-state as a neutral arbitrator of society and as a benevolent actor who invited intermediary bodies. Instead, I saw the state as an all-consuming power and a threat to not only civil society (which is overrun by the state) but the church.

I realised that the church was the answer. Stanley Hauerwas (one of Cavanaugh’s formative mentors) was right the church did not have a strategy it was the strategy. But, this required the church, in his words, to be the church so that the world could be shown to be the world. McKnight had been right to displace the state as the strategy towards the kingdom and replace it with the church. The problem though was that the church was running errands for the world. Where I wondered was the church as an alternative, political body? The church I began to realise needed to own its political reality as the body politic of Christ and as the citizens of God’s kingdom.

This brings me to where I am today. I have been reading material to prepare (figure out the viability of a long-held hunch) for my Master’s thesis for next year in which I will bring together William Cavanaugh with Judith Butler. In the former Catholic political theologian and the latter queer/feminist/gender-politics theorist, I hope to bring out the political nature of the church. In fact, I hope to offer a solid rationale for why the church should be on the streets.

Thursday, 4 February 2016

TPPA: Have the People (Out)spoken?

Today I went to the TPPA protest in town. For many, protests are classed as antisocial, or a mere waste of time, or a considerable inconvenience to members of the public. I want to acknowledge that protests risk becoming violent and that protests can unnecessarily affect the general public. Today’s interventions on the on ramps and off ramps of the motorway were rather foolish and there is no doubt that commuters were adversely impacted by the various demonstrations. I do want to apologise to those who were prevented today from arriving at their respective destinations, whether it was work-related, social in nature or some other engagement.
However, I want to recognise too that today’s actions were necessary. There have been numerous protests over the last few years related to this partnership. Many would say since these protests had little effect, what was the point of doing another demonstration today? It was for a number of reasons.
One of them was that after all the public outcry there was still little acknowledgement by Key and his administration of the legitimacy of the concerns of the public. This comes across as arrogant when we live in a democracy and even more worrying when expert voices in health, law, and academia have vocally expressed their trepidation over the agreement. It has been even more troubling that Key has disparaged these respectable professionals rather than engage with their arguments. He has only widened the division between those who were worried about the agreement and those who were satisfied with the trade deal or simply uninformed or uninterested about it. He has merely expanded this schism through his frequent and open use of pejoratives and derision.
A related secondary reason for protesting is that Key and his key ministers instead of attempting to create discussion have created further discord. They have favoured an approach of blind trust rather than opting for an informed citizenry. This has meant that the public has had a staple diet of spin rather than substance. A democracy thrives on a healthy public sphere but for this public issue, we have had very little rigorous debate despite specialist’s offers to critically engage with the Key administration. These simple assurances of the TPPA being in New Zealand’s best interests have further added to the confusion and dissonance surrounding the agreement.
Thirdly, the trade negotiations have been done in secret. For many this has been a sign of a lack of good will by the government. After all were not the NZ public advised by the government for the “GCSB” Bill that if you have nothing to hide then there is no cause for concern? After such arguments, the lack of transparency over the TPP agreement would surely indicate a lack of consistency at best or moral integrity at worst? What’s more is that these circumstances were shared by all the citizens countries involved in the agreement and all expressed the same disapproval of this secrecy which betrayed their democratic values. Yet, corporations were offered ample opportunities to see the agreement and to inform its content.
Fourthly, is that this these undemocratic measures have been justified under the guise that this has been standard protocol for previous trade agreements. However, this claim neglects to recognise that this is not your average trade agreement. This agreement has no historical equal. It concerns all manner of issues ranging from copyright to pharmaceuticals, to financial regulations (that could prevent another recession), and to corporations having the capacity to sue us for decisions made in the best interests of its citizens. The scope of this agreement is extensive and will undoubtedly impact the lives of the average citizen in the signatory countries.
Fifthly, despite the potential issues posed by the last concern we have been given the reassurance that a lawsuit has never happened before in the history of previous agreements. However, this overlooks the fact that new trade agreements, like this one, offer new opportunities for lawsuits that could lead to the first time. New Zealand has no history of lawsuits by corporations but Australia is still in the midst of a lawsuit – made possible through trade agreements tied to the World Trade Organisation (WTO) – for its legislation to put into place plain packet packaging for cigarettes that could decisively influence NZ’s own attempts at legislation. Therefore, the apprehension of concerned public citizens, over the prospect of NZ facing legal action over laws made for the betterment of the country, is reasonable.
Consequently, with all of these qualms, questions, and quandaries which were not satisfactorily addressed is it any wonder that the NZ public responded with non-violent direct action today? Isn’t it miraculous that people despite their disquiet and desperation didn’t resort to violent action? That being said I’m certainly not condoning such actions. However, I think that direct action was tame compared to what could have ensued.
Furthermore, was it really surprising that there was such a heavy presence of iwi given that the TPPA concerns the country’s sovereignty? Without the treaty’s claims being fully resolved they had every right to express their disapproval. What's more, what kind of signals are being sent to iwi when the TPPA is signed on the week of Waitangi Day and in New Zealand no less? Therefore, is it any wonder that Maori chose to abstain from conducting a powhiri for the signing of the agreement? Is it any wonder that Key was asked not to speak of the TPPA in his address at Waitangi? He was afforded the respect of the country’s PM to speak (albeit with conditions) at a time when he did nothing to mitigate the concerns of the people of the land.
Therefore, direct action was called for and was fully understandable given the circumstances. In a democracy shouldn’t we laud democratic participation rather than lambast those who choose to exercise their rights to protest and to protest with others? These citizens were not letting off steam. These citizens were not unstable, unproductive, or paranoid idiots. No. These citizens were fighting for the future of New Zealand. They don’t like the ominous nature of this agreement. Neither do I. I encourage each of you to ask yourself are their concerns and methods so surprising?

Wednesday, 2 December 2015

A Belated Introduction

Heya stranger,

It's odd that I'm writing an introduction having already written my first blog post, but if anything you will have learned something about me - I'm unconventional.

Those of you know me know that I have recently completed my studies. Now if you are like my parents or grandparents you will probably be unsure of what I've actually studied. Well that would be understandable anyway, as I've changed institutions and majors like they've been going out of fashion. I started studying Law and Arts, majoring in Psychology and Politics to ending up completing a BA in Psychology and Sociology and a Diploma in Applied Theology. For many this sounds like an odd route to take, and for some in my family this has been a disappointing endpoint. This unconventional route could also have been shortened by a year had I completed my theological studies at Auckland (as a conjoint degree), instead of at Carey. Being at one institution indeed would have been easier, so you have to wonder why am I such a sucker for punishment? And why would I rack up a student loan for areas (psychology, sociology, and theology) that require specialising?

Well, it only gets stranger thinking about next year. You see I applied and was accepted into a Graduate Diploma in Teaching next year. You see I could have undertaken further study into Psychology or, perhaps, Sociology. But, instead, I will be studying a Postgraduate Diploma (PG Dip) in Theology, and what's more I'll be studying down south at the University of Otago. And not only that, but I'll be moving down with Jaala, my fiance (then wife), without any jobs being confirmed. You may be thinking what could bring about such a move? The only satisfactory answer is God.

Throughout this year God has been saying whacky things! Fortunately though he's been saying them to the two of us. God has called us on a walk on the wild side, or as I'm calling it (check the blogs url) - a walk on the south side. It takes something pretty radical for two individuals who love their city, their neighbourhoods, and their networks to uproot. We know in our bones though that God is guiding us through this venture, and that Dunedin is only the beginning. It has been a hard slog working through my last year of undergrad studies. It has been humbling to hear God tell us to speed up our plans of getting married (I've had to eat my words). It has been disheartening too having to contemplate leaving my tutoring families, our friends, and our respective families, including our local church family. However, it has been a small miracle that I have been accepted into a PG Dip after only completing a Diploma. It has been wonderful hearing prophetic words from others telling us we're on the right path. But, most of all, it has been fantastic having the full backing of Jaala from the beginning (thank you babe!).

Some of you have wondered why I'm going to Dunedin. I'm going down to study public theology (as Otago has the only public theology department in NZ). Check out this link if you want to find out more about public theology: www.otago.ac.nz/ctpi/what/. Theology, the holistic pursuit of God, I believe calls us to serve the public. Theology in the academy should do this not only because of their responsibility to the tax payer and the university, but also because theology has a decisive voice on all issues. There are incredible riches in the breadth of Christian tradition and thought. This diversity and comprehensiveness puts Christian theology in good stead to dialogue with different partners and disciplines. It is with this interdisciplinary approach in mind that I have called my online forum, Theology @ the Crossroads.

I hope to offer my own contribution to public theology through crafting a citizen theology, which brings into the picture the church as God's kingdom citizens, but also their other forms of citizenship: locally, nationally, transnationally, and globally. I believe this concept of dual citizenship can remind the church of its ultimate ties to God's kingdom and his people and of our social responsibility to be good citizens in this world. Fortunately, my papers (i.e. "Roots of Public Theology" and "Public Theology and Social Justice") next year will all be good resources to inform, grow, and hone these ideas.

During the course of our time in Dunedin I am planning to use this blog as a way of both informing you about life on the south side and interact with you all through doing theology at the crossroads. If this sounds like your cup of tea (or, if you're a non-tea drinker, your beverage of choice), then please subscribe to my blog.

Friday, 27 November 2015

Oh, for the love of God!

11 months ago Australasia had a touch of terror, and it was a touch too close. I'm referring to the 2014 Sydney siege as it was called. It touched on a raw nerve, the West's fear of ISIS. It turned out in the end that the terrorist was actually not part of ISIS, and instead was an extremist with a history of mental illness and criminality. Following this event there was, just like 9/11, a growing concern about Muslims and the Islamic faith. In the face of this incident and the latent stereotypes of Muslims a Twitter campaign started: #illridewithyou. A campaign which demonstrated solidarity with Muslims using public transport. It recognised and represented Muslims as everyday, respectable citizens. It dispelled fears and misconceptions. 
However, it is clear that stereotypes of Muslims and especially those who hold onto the faith of Islam are still prevalent. This has been freshly dredged up to the surface by the recent terror attack in Paris a fortnight ago. ISIS has since taken responsibility for the tragic events which led to 129 civilians dying. The world has in turn rallied around France through changing social media profiles pictures, hashtagging #prayforparis, and applying Facebook's French flag filters. There has also been outcry about the prominence of the news coverage offered to the Paris terror attacks. The publicity given to these attacks has been compared to the Garissa University College attack on April, 2nd by Al-Shabaab (an Al-Qaeda offshoot) that claimed 147 lives and injured 79 others or the massacre of 2,000-odd Nigerians in January by Boko Haram. It is true that these events drew less attention and, indeed, less of an outcry. It does show a double-standard in coverage of tragic events in developed nations in comparison to developing nations. Although, all bad news is good news for the press (perhaps, I'm a little too cynical)  - there is no doubt that news values make Western catastrophies more salient - more news worthy - than those elsewhere.
There is also no doubt that the terrorists are winning. Not because of their gruesome and detestable violence, but because their mind-games are succeeding. They are preying on the paranoia of anyone being a terrorist. However, the decentralisation of terrorist networks is nothing new. Nor, is mistrust for the 'other' a new evolution. It preys on the part of us that perceives and interprets others as with us or against us. Unfortunately though binaries don't do justice to a world that is an a hodge-podge of good and evil. No terrorist is entirely evil. Furthermore, we cannot say that all Muslims are our enemies. Let's avoid using 'Muslim' as a synonym for 'ISIS'.
ISIS is clearly a force that needs to be tackled, but I fear that retaliation - as seen by the bombing of ISIS targets in Syria by French fighter jets - will only lead to further retaliation. Surely we have seen through the case studies of the US's occupation of Iraq and Israel's tactics in the Gaza Strip that revenge only begets revenge. We're seen time and time again how the death of one fanatic, like a noxious weed, draws out many more. More problematically the targeting of ‘innocent’ civilians only creates further bad blood. It is inevitable that civilians will be killed and counted as collateral damage. Judith Butler has argued that the West has a tendency to selectively count and frame who counts as a victim. We must exercise caution with a utilitarian ethic, where the ends justifies the means. For every civilian death counts, because this loss of life is another opportunity for ISIS to recruit a resentful, disgruntled, or grieving civilian. Don't forget it only takes one person to be a suicide bomber. If we think we can enact another "war on terror" the way that the Bush administration retaliated for 9/11, then we're simply repeating the mistakes of the past (just like Bush overlooked the failure of the Vietnam War; not a perfect analogy I know).
I call for a different way. A more difficult way. The way of love. Christians are called to love their enemies (Matthew 5:43-48; Luke 6:27-36). I'm not trying to be profound. I'm trying to tell you something that goes against the grain. In the letter to the church in Rome - which was made up of Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians who were on the verge of a church split - Paul appealed to them, to
...therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.
Now, when we read that we think of a very heavenly and idealistic sentence. But the word "spiritual" here is about rationality. In fact, this spiritual logic is very practical as I'll point out in a second. Paul then says in the following verse,
Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God - what is good and acceptable and perfect.
It is clear here that Paul doesn't want us to take a leaf out of the world's book. Instead, he wants a mental transformation in the Roman church members. The word translated transformed is metamorfoƍ (which is also used in 2 Corinthians 3:18). It's related to the word metanoia, meaning to have a radical transformation of your mind; a change of perception. It is the opposite of paranoia (thinking that is "off to the side"; thoughts disconnected from rational thinking). So Paul is calling Christian to not follow the way of the world, but instead to think differently, without being paranoid. I want to suggest that the church is called not to conform to the world's group think, but instead to see beyond the binaries, the stereotypes, and paranoia connected to Muslims and the Islamic faith.

One of the horrible consequences of terror is that you sacrifice the complexity and nuance of everyday life for shades of black and white. Is this person a threat or not? However, determining the will of God requires us to be of a sound mind. Paranoia risks us removing ourselves from others literally and emphatically. It risks us shrinking into ourselves. It risks us relying on ourselves. However, we need to rely on the Spirit.

Paul's previous content in Romans 8 demonstrates our need for the Spirit. The Spirit applies in our lives Jesus own life, a life that fulfilled the law and that overcame the flesh. We now can live righteous lives which can be navigated through the Spirit’s mindset. This new-found freedom allows us to find a new freedom as God’s children, for we are no longer in bondage. That’s not to say that we will be free of suffering, but that our suffering is not the last word. For we place our hope in one day sharing in Christ’s glory. However, Paul then offers a series of rhetorical questions reminding us of God’s faithfulness to us in Jesus. He then asks a last two-part rhetorical question (v. 35):
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? 

Paul adds in v. 36 a reference to Psalm 44, a psalm of lament which calls on God’s faithfulness in dire circumstances. Despite the psalmist pleading with God to save them from their enemies, he finishes in 26b with “Redeem us for the sake of your steadfast love.”
It appears with this last verse in mind he confidently answers his previous questions:
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (vv. 37-38)

This incredible promise demonstrates that the Spirit frees us from our old lifestyle plagued by our flesh and by our disobedience against the law. Despite these barriers and our inevitable suffering God's love in Jesus is secure and supreme. Our status in Christ has set us free from the cares of the world. Our minds instead are being transformed, indeed conformed, into the mind of Christ (12:2). This new way of perceiving the world requires a corresponding new way of interacting with others, including our enemies:
Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

Paul is challenging his readers to not only reject the world's worldview, but to reject the world's way of resolving conflict. This challenge cannot be nuanced or offered caveats, God's role as judge is to be recognised and our enemies are to recognised as the perfect recipients of good acts. Just as God's love was the response to our fallenness and deficiencies in Romans 8, our response to human fallenness (13:9) is to love our neighbours as ourselves (v. 10), for love is the fulfillment of the law (vs. 8, 10). Therefore, the mind of Christ is a way of being and seeing which revolves around Christ-conceived love. The requirement of Christ is for us to prove our love for others, rather than requiring others to prove themselves worthy of our love.There is no footnote or fine print to discharge us of Jesus' precedent of loving and forgiving our enemies).

Hatred only begets hatred. Just as violence begets more violence. The French choosing violence as their weapon (although understandable) will only offer further opportunities for retaliation from ISIS. The French strategy of choosing to fight violence with violence will not bring meaning or resolution to the tragic loss of life in France. Something more radical is called for and that strategy is love. Our minds, our hearts, and very lives are to be anchored in and directed by the love of God. This is our worship of God where we are secure in his love for us so that we may free to love others without paranoia. I feel foolish advocating for love to be our tactic, but, then again, l'amour de Dieu est folie (the love of God is folly). And if God's love is folly, then we all are called to follow in those foolish footsteps.